


Happy New Year

by HagiaSophia



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HagiaSophia/pseuds/HagiaSophia
Summary: Predictable NYE ficlet
Relationships: Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Happy New Year

The music was not to Bruce’s taste. Fleetingly his mind turned to the orchestra he normally had in the ballroom for his New Year’s Eve gala and pushed the thought away. The whole point of accepting Oliver and Dinah’s invitation was that he hadn’t wanted to do what he normally did. He wanted a break with tradition, hadn’t wanted to face the usual party without Dick there. Dick who he was fairly sure had volunteered to cover New Year’s Eve, despite his insistence that he had been rota’d without consultation. He wasn’t the world’s greatest detective for nothing. He swirled the whisky in his glass - at least Oliver could be relied upon for decent booze - and ruminated on the arguments he’d had with Dick about the choice, or more precisely, location of his career.

“Why Bludhaven, it’s hours away? I understand you want your own place, but you can do that here in Gotham. Why not join the Gotham PD? Commissioner Gordon would be delighted to have you...”

“That’s the point!” Dick interrupted, a little louder than he’d intended. Realising he sounded like a petulant child he lowered his tone. “I don’t want favours, I don’t want to work in a place where I’m given special treatment because I’m your ward.”

“Son.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re not my ‘ward’, you’re my son Dick.”

That softened him slightly, and his tone was gentle but remained resolute, “Bruce, I need to live my life in my way.”

And that had been the last they had spoken about it. He discovered that Dick went by “Richard” in his new precinct, which was understandable really. He had honoured the name because it felt disrespectful to the Graysons to change it, but it was a burden a rookie cop didn’t need. He had not even said anything on seeing the crummy apartment Dick rented (which made Jason’s rat infested safe house look luxurious), though his lips had narrowed to nearly nothing. His legendary self restraint meant he did not point out that Dick had a vast trust fund at his disposal and no need to live like a crack addict. He and Alfred didn’t discuss the state of the apartment either, though he was fairly sure Alfred popped over from time to time to fumigate the place and stock the refrigerator, and Dick did not object to that, no indeed.

His mind drifted to Alfred, who got tired more quickly these days and whose steel grey hair was now flecked with white. All at once Bruce felt old and weary, and utterly out of place as he watched happy people pick out props for a karaoke booth. He was suddenly very conscious of the dull ache in his back which was worse than usual tonight. He had left his painkillers at the hotel so he’d have to drown it out with Oliver’s scotch. He took another gulp and wondered how rude it was to leave before midnight.

“Great party, huh.”

The voice at his shoulder was unmistakable. He turned and gave him a smile through gritted teeth.

“Jordan.”

“Aw, Bruce, stop smothering me with affection, it’s too much.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“Just making conversation. I could hear your brooding from the other side of the room and it’s something of a mood killer at a party. I wondered if I could persuade you to dial it down to just smouldering stares rather than looking like you’re contemplating the imminent destruction of everything you hold dear.”

Bruce didn’t respond, hoping in a triumph of optimism over experience, that this might make Jordan shut up and go away. It didn’t work.

Hal lost the grin from his face and his tone dropped, “Seriously. Bruce, you ok?”

“I’m fine, I assure you. Go back to.....whatever it is you were doing.”

“Hmmm, well I was hoping to be doing a gorgeous blonde I spotted, but she seems spoken for, so I’m at a loose end.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll be ok. You’ve never lacked for...companionship.”

Hal threw his head back and laughed at that one “Says Brucie Wayne! Didn’t I see you partying on a yatch last week with ballerinas?”

“For my cover only I assure you.”

“That’s a great cover story, I grant you.”

It was true that the playboy persona hadn’t been any great hardship in his younger years, but tonight, excessively maudlin Bruce was not in the mood.

Hal decided on a change of subject “Who’s in charge of the little ninjas tonight?”

Bruce snorted. “I can’t believe you think most of my sons are remotely in need of a babysitter.”

“Surely the littlest ninja, the mini-me, what’s his name?”

“Damien, and yes, Alfred will be supervising his rampaging through the house.”

“House” Hal noticed, not “manor”. He’d been to Wayne Manor and it was nobody’s idea of a “house” unless you were fucking loaded and used to living in a place with paintings of your great grandparents on the walls. He held up his glass in the imitation of a toast; 

“Well, Godspeed, Alfred.”

Bruce smiled despite himself. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Got any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Only to try and stay alive and keep my family alive for another year.”

Hal took another swig of his drink and nodded

“Samsies. Except for the family - never been tied down. Where are the rest of the Bat family tonight?”

“Tim is at a party elsewhere, Dick is on duty and Jason....well.....who knows where Jason is.” Bruce couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

“Dick’s on duty? His first New Year’s Eve?”

Bruce nodded

“Man, being a cop dealing with drunks is going to be a step down from being Nightwing.”

Bruce shrugged “It’s what he’s always wanted to do.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Of course I do. I’m very proud.”

“Were you hoping he’d take over the family business?”

“Which one?”

“Well, I was thinking of Wayne Enterprises.”

“No, he was never interested in that, though Tim is showing a lot of promise in that direction. No, I had hoped to persuade him to take over my other line of work.”

You’re shitting me?”

“No Jordan I am not in fact “shitting you”. How long do you think I can keep doing this?” Bruce’s tone was harsher than he intended. He silently rebuked himself for letting Jordan needle him into losing control. It was the pain, he thought to himself. 

The answer to his question was silence. So that’s what it took to shut Hal Jordan up, Bruce thought with sudden, savage, satisfaction.

Hal had never really considered Bruce’s frailty. Watching him fight, watching him glide through the night skies weaving through the Gotham skyline, it was impossible to believe he wasn’t a meta human. Bruce had been the first person he’d met in the League, who had pushed his cowl back in that first fight together and told him to fight for something he believed in, and yes, the fact that Batman was smoking hot was not lost on him. He hadn’t even known who Bruce Wayne was then. And sure, they argued a lot (which was entirely Bruce’s fault because he was a massive control freak and thought a Green Lantern reported to him and not the Corps), but the truth was he wouldn’t want a League without him there. There was also nobody whose instincts he trusted more in a fight, and when Bruce wasn’t being a total cock knob he would grudgingly admit that Bruce was a decent pilot and a talented engineer. He felt a loss at the thought of not seeing Bruce on a regular basis, and wasn’t that a new revelation?

“You’re not that old”. It was a feeble protest, a child’s protest at being told he couldn’t have what he wanted.

Bruce barked a laugh.

“I’m 5 years older than you and I’ve been doing to for over two decades without any special powers beyond stubbornness and training, and as you like to point out, my wealth. I broke my back years ago and it never healed properly - I can barely do this at the moment let alone long term.”

There was no argument to make against that. “So, Dick’s not interested in taking over?”

“He can hardly be Batman and a serving officer. No, he’s made his choice and it’s the right one. He’s...he’s a good kid.” Bruce’s treacherous throat closed when he talked about his oldest son. He had never even had the chance to ask Dick if he wanted to take over as Batman before Dick embarked on his career, and he would never put him in the difficult position of asking him now. He was so, so proud of his oldest son, and never had the words to tell him. Bruce felt old and sad and suddenly really didn’t want to go back to his hotel room alone. 

“Of course he is, he was raised by one of the best men I know.” Hal’s voice was low and his gaze met Bruce’s without hesitation.

He turned to Hal whose eyes were on his. They were large and brown and unblinking. His lashes were too long for a man, really, too pretty. Is that was Jordan was - too pretty? Was that what this antagonism between them was? He knew enough about Hal’s tastes to know he had sex with men as well as women. Hell, he was fairly sure Hal had sex with aliens, though looking at Clarke there was no judgement from him about that. He thought he might just have sunk enough of Oliver’s scotch, and Hal was certainly pretty enough....

He kept looking at Hal and took a step closer.

“Is that right?” He murmured

Hal kept his eyes locked on Bruce’s and smirked “Yeah. You’re absolutely not the douche I thought you were at first.”

“What a very touching declaration.” Bruce’s eyes were on Hal’s lips now and they were stood much too close. Hal could smell Bruce’s expensive cologne.

At that precise moment Oliver Queen decided to lurch up to them, clapping them both on the shoulder.

“Hey, my boys! Having a good evening?”

“Spectacular, Oliver, thank you.” Bruce’s voice sounded like he wanted to feed him to Killer Croc, and he pulled away from the alcohol fumes pouring off his school friend.

Hal grinned at his friend and clapped him on the back, “Ollie, great party, thanks for the invite. Where’s your beautiful wife? I haven’t seen her all evening.”

Oliver looked confused

“Do you know, I’m not sure.”

“Well, it’s only a few minutes to midnight, better find her so you’re not alone when the ball drops.”

“Good fucking point Hal my boy!”

With that, Oliver lurched away into the crowd to be instantly distracted from his goal of finding Dinah.

Bruce turned back to Hal.

“Only a few minutes to midnight?”

“That’s right.”

“Not much time to find someone to see the new year in with.” Bruce’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nope. Want to get out of here?”

Bruce nodded and turned to leave the party with Hal following. They were outside the apartment block when they heard the crowds start to count down the final 10 seconds to midnight and they turned to face each other again. Snow had started to fall and Bruce allowed himself to enjoy the sight of Hal, bathed in moonlight and with snowflakes settling in his chestnut hair.

Hal was first to speak “happy new year.” And then he lent in to touch his lips against Bruce’s. It was a chaste, tentative kiss at first, but then Bruce was kissing him back, licking into his mouth and Hal gave a soft moan and pulled him closer. Bruce responded by getting deepening the kiss and then moved to lick and suck at Hal’s neck.

“Babe, we gotta get this off the street.”

“My hotel’s not far from here. Can you manage a couple minute’s walk in this cold?” Hal nodded. 

“Bruce?”

“Mmhmm?”

“I’m liking how this year is shaping up.”

“Me too.” And Bruce took his hand as they hurried through the streets to his hotel.


End file.
